The War of the Worlds
by Ellis McGuinn
Summary: The wizards discover the fairies. The humans discover the wizards. Terrorism abounds. Artemis Fowl and Mulch Diggums plan to take full advantage of the situation. (Harry Potter/Artemis Fowl crossover) Review. I live for reviews.
1. Hermione

Author's Note: *sigh* Yes, I know. I said I would finish those other fics before I started in on this idea. For those of you who would like to quote what I said about finishing, it's in Chapter 6 of Sparks (hey, go read that one, too! A bunch of people reviewed and assured me it didn't suck.), but some other people have got the idea for an AF/HP (for all you culturally ignorant, HP stands for Harry Potter), like Chuthulupenguin (which I can type out cause I'm good with big words, exempli gratia miscellaneous, onomatopoeia, deoxyribonucleic acid, concatenation; oh, hey, go read hers (I think she's a she, anyway. Oh man. Parentheses within parentheses. o_0) too. It's pretty good, but its title is SO long that I'm not going to type it out. You'll just have to look.) Anyway, please read this fic. I live for feedback. And to all you HP-haters out there: at least read the first sentence. If you're very good and review regularly maybe I'll kill off Harry. ^_^  
  
Hermione Granger was hating life. Without her last three years of magical training, and having missed four years of muggle education, her career options in either world were severely limited. But at age fifteen, she hadn't really had a choice. Her parents decided that maybe a world in which psychotic mass murderers with armies of "death eaters" and "dementors" wreaked havoc on civilization wasn't the kind of place they wanted their baby to live. Without graduating from magical school, she hadn't been allowed to keep her wand. She had struggled in muggle school socially and academically, and had ended up just scraping a GED.  
  
So here she was, Hermione Granger, an English witch living as an American law-enforcement agent, driving a crappy Crown Victoria by day and an even crappier Nova by night. She was ugly, her cat had left her, she had no friends, she made a paltry living, her talent went unrecognized and unused, and her partner was a complete nincompoop. He couldn't even pronounce 'Hermione' right. No one in this entire godforsaken country could. HER-MY- OH-KNEE. It really wasn't that difficult.  
  
Hermione Granger was hating life.  
  
"Hey, Hermany," said Davis. At the sound of his abrasive, nasal voice, she reflexively reached for her gun before realizing once again that she shouldn't shoot her own partner. She sighed.  
  
"Yes, Davis. What is it?"  
  
"I just remembered I got a dental appointment this afternoon. I'm gonna have to ditch you."  
  
She rolled here eyes and willed herself not to go for her gun again. "Davis," she said carefully, "you had a dental appointment yesterday. How often can your misaligned pearly whites possibly need fluoride?"  
  
"I just have to leave now."  
  
"No, you don't. We're checking out this area for possible chemical contamination. We'll leave just as soon as we're finished, and then you can go get flossed and fluorided till your eyes bubble."  
  
"Why are we here again?"  
  
Oh, lord, thought Hermione. Time to bust out the sarcasm. "Well, Davis, I think it has something to do with the fact that twelve area residents have been reduced to drooling, stuttering, amnesiacs in the last week."  
  
"But if--"  
  
Suddenly, there was a noise behind her back. Davis's jaw dropped open. "Obl," said a deep voice behind her before she whirled around and punched its lights out. The red-headed figure crumpled to the ground, wand in hand.  
  
"That man just appeared out of nowhere!" Davis exclaimed.  
  
Hermione had a sickening premonition as she knelt next to the comatose wizard. She lifted his head off his shoulder. Oh no. It was Percy Weasley. Action, action, action, Hermione, she thought to herself, do something quick! She grabbed the wand and pointed it at the unconscious Weasley- spawn.  
  
"Obliviate!" she commanded, and felt again the power of magic surging through her fingers. She turned to her partner. "Obliviate!" she said again. Davis's eyes went out of focus and he swayed on his feet.  
  
Percy stirred. Hermione put that to a stop with a swift kick to the head. She needed time to think. What to do with the body? Davis couldn't be allowed to see it again. Perhaps more importantly, what to do with the wand? If she left it with Percy, he could see that it had been last used to cast a memory charm. There was no telling how much he'd remember. If he found that he'd been zapped with his own wand, he'd know that he'd stumbled across a wizard or witch outside of boundaries.  
  
If she took the wand with her, she'd be back in business. A witch again. She could leave behind her stupid job, leave behind Davis, leave behind all these imbeciles who couldn't manage a simple four-syllable name.  
  
The decision about the wand didn't take long to make. She tucked it in her holster, and put her jacket on to hide it.  
  
Now about that body. For good measure, she kicked Percy in the head again, on the other side, and dragged him over to some nearby woods. She smeared dirt on his face and hair for camouflage. Couldn't have more muggles finding him hidden there. She checked her watch. Davis would be coming around soon.  
  
She sat on the grass next to him and waited. 


	2. Ron

Author's Note: First I'm just going to advance the plot going around and checking in with some of the main characters. For the purposes of this fic, this is a few years after Harry & co. graduate from Hogwarts, but fairly soon after EC. Okay? Okay. I knew you'd understand! So review, review, review!  
  
The Quidditch World Cup was madness. Complete and utter madness. People everywhere, shouting, milling, pitching tents, starting fires, placing bets. Muggle security was a nightmare. The Australian Minister of Magic had gone missing. The Portkey schedule had gone amok. Two members of the Peruvian team had come to blows over who got the end locker. Chaos reigned supreme.  
  
In other words, it was a young up-and-coming reporter's dream. There was quite possibly the material here for one to get out of a two-bit sportswriting position at the Liverpool Magic Bee-Inquirer-Observer-Tribune- Citizen-Herald and into the newsroom of the prestigious Daily Prophet.  
  
Ron Weasley was just such a young up-and-coming reporter, with just such a two-bit sportswriting position at the Liverpool Magic BIOTCH. He would dearly love to make it to a paper with better acronym skills. At the moment, however, huddled in the corner of the press box, squeezing the bridge of his nose, all he wanted was for the world to go away. He had a doozy of a hangover after last night's adventures with a sweet young thing from the Los Angeles Wizarding Times who found British accents devastatingly sexy.  
  
Suddenly there was a tapping on his shoulder.  
  
"Go away," he mumbled piteously.  
  
The tapping turned into a flick at his temple.  
  
"Unh," he moaned, and looked up to see his little sister tapping her foot disgustedly.  
  
"Honestly, Ronald," she snapped, "can't you lay off the booze for two consecutive days? You need to come see Percy. He's had a run-in with a Dark Wizard."  
  
Ron cradled his aching head in his palms. "Ginny. My head hurts already. What do I want to see Percy for?"  
  
"Might make a good story."  
  
Ron's energy was suddenly restored. "Let's go," he said decisively. 


	3. Artemis

Across the pond, Artemis Fowl was puzzled. That didn't happen very often or very easily.  
  
He was still a little leery of the whole 'fairy' concept, and of the short man called 'Mulch.' But the CD, the diary, they were obviously his handiwork. And who else would have had the brains to dress it up as a gold medallion on a leather necklace?  
  
So evidently, there were elfin creatures who lived underground that were capable of selectively erasing human memories. That was a little hard to swallow, even if somewhere in the back of his mind there was an odd logic to it. But now, playing with his beloved Cube, trying to take his mind off the elfin creatures, something had him even more baffled.  
  
There was all kinds of crazy electrical and satellite-surveillance activity in, of all places, Williamsburg, Iowa.  
  
Smack in the middle of the United States, in corn 'n cow country. Something very strange was happening here. Something very strange indeed.  
  
Obviously, the thing to do here was to somehow make money off it.  
  
The little man Mulch had promised that the Cube, and his own mind, contained the information that could make both of them rich beyond the dreams of avarice. He just didn't know it yet, Mulch had said, but he would find out soon enough. Certain things would become clear to him.  
  
Could Mulch have been talking about whatever the hell was going on in Middle America?  
  
The chance at money and knowledge was very tempting to Artemis. Mulch seemed to have been on the up-and-up. Yes. With Iowa practically humming with activity, fairies must be involved. There was just no other explanation. Unless of course the cows were up to something. And Artemis Fowl found that highly unlikely.  
  
Iowa. Iowa was the key to the knowledge locked up in his mind.  
  
"Butler," Artemis called to his erstwhile bodyguard, "pack for a short sojourn, will you?" 


End file.
